


Miniskirt | Lisa

by fiestar



Category: BLACKPINK (Band), K-pop
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Dressing Room Sex, F/F, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Roommates, Semi-Public Sex, Shopping Malls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-07 11:53:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16853533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiestar/pseuds/fiestar
Summary: Follow me on Tumblr for more. https://thx-cum-again.tumblr.com.





	Miniskirt | Lisa

Skirts are honestly your kryptonite. It could be said that nice legs are what really gets you, but then you could also say heels play into it, too. The female form was something you genuinely enjoyed looking at for its simple aesthetic appeal. Sky high heels pointing straight up long, enticingly long legs to tease you with a high cut hem of a super mini skirt. It was so tempting to want to imagine what’s beneath the ruffles of such a delicate piece of clothing, but it’s even easier to restrain yourself. Obviously, you can’t go walking around, sticking your head up girls’ skirts, it just wouldn’t play out well. Even if no one called the cops, you’d still have to suffer through being hit by purses, hands, and anything else within hitting distance; and the shouting. That’s all theoretical, of course. If you honestly want to look up someone’s skirt you could do it to yourself. Sure, it wouldn’t be very interesting since you see what you look like every day, but it fits the criteria. Usually, you’d walk around in an outfit you’d find attractive on another girl just to see how many looks you’d get once you leave the house, but all the fun was sucked out of that as soon as _she_ showed up.

It wasn’t actually her fault. Lisa didn’t purposely choose to be born with wide, doe eyes and soft, pillowy lips. She hadn’t asked specifically for dewy skin and a dazzling smile. You can’t engineer yourself to look like perfection any more than you can stop time, so holding a grudge against the girl was pretty pointless. Not to say you didn’t do it anyway, but only for a short period of time. In your defense, she had cropped up out of nowhere. Honestly, she came banging down your door at 2:36 AM on a Wednesday talking about “I’m going to be your new roommate and where’s the bathroom I really have to pee, by the way, I’m Lisa.” Bleary-eyed and thoroughly confused, you hadn’t posed the slightest bit of a problem to the wide-awake girl who had just slid past you, dropped her stuff on the floor, and went off in search of the bathroom she’d asked about. After getting seven hours of sleep and convincing yourself that the Lisa chick had been some really vivid lucid dream, you went to get up only to find Lisa sitting on the couch with a laptop on her thighs, watching music videos.

Turns out she did have a legitimate reason for barging into _your_ apartment at an unholy hour and helping herself to _your_ Wifi password and _your_ favorite cereal even though it was late afternoon. She was the ex-best friend of some girl’s middle school boyfriend that knows the girl that walks your landlord’s dogs when he leaves to attend to other complexes under his jurisdiction and that meant that someone’s something or the other had tipped her off that you were looking for a roommate because you’d drunkenly confessed to feeling lonely in your apartment a few weeks prior at someone’s birthday party. Either way, Lisa insisted that she wasn’t leaving anytime soon, so you spent one Wednesday a year ago at IKEA trying to find things to decorate your spare bedroom with while Lisa happily chattered about something.

The upside to the whole ordeal was that Lisa had a thing for skirts. More specifically those super tiny, barely-there, pleated tennis skirts. Either that or wearing pants so tight they look like someone had painted them onto her perfectly thin legs, or those sinfully short shorts that could double as panties if underwear was made from denim. To put it shorty, Lisa looked as though she had walked out of your dreams and her bubbly personality made everything one thousand times better. The willowy girl had a natural affinity for rapping and dancing that she loved showing off. Before Lisa, you hadn’t known where all those underground SoundCloud rappers originated from, and honestly, you still don’t, the people you found were way more interesting than messy tattoos and dyed hair. Lisa herself had such a large following that she could sell out an entire show within minutes of mentioning it, but as much of a hardcore rapper she seemed to be on stage she turned into a sweet baby as soon as the mic turns off. It’s become a sort of ritual between the two of you for her to come off stage and bear hug you like she’s not covered in sweat and jittery from adrenaline. There are probably hundreds of pictures of the two of you floating around on Instagram, but no one seems to care about you, it’s all about Lisa.

You can’t be hurt about it, though. For one, of every ten people posting pictures of you two only three have actually seen you in real life, and maybe one of them has actually talked to you. Second, who can blame them? You constantly find your mind wandering to the dark side of your friendship. It’s a place where the lines between friend and lover are blurred, a place where you can easily take off her skirt instead of taking your mind off what’s under it. But Lisa is always the one to initiate things like that between the two of you. You wouldn’t dare. She has wild stories of losing strip poker and getting dared to go skinny dipping while out camping, so it’s no secret that she wouldn’t care if you broached the subject. The reason you don’t is pretty stupid if you think about it long enough. It’s really just you still being bashful after all this time. You’ve never been like this with your other friends and it makes you wonder what makes Lisa different.

“Ah, [Name],” You hadn’t expected to be greeted when you got home tonight. It’s late by any standards, almost 4AM as you try to quietly shuffle past your neighbors’ doors, dancing across the hallway to avoid the creaking floorboards and taking five minutes to ease your front door open. Once it’s shut it becomes apparent that Lisa isn’t in the living room as you expected. Her voice is floating in soft, whimpering waves from her bedroom. You wonder if she’s half asleep or in pain as you make your way to the slightly ajar door. It takes all of three seconds to see that it’s neither of those things. Instead of pain twisting across Lisa’s pretty face, her lips are parted in sighs of ecstasy as she fucks herself on her fingers. Her pace is quick and hard.

You bite your lip and turn around, leaping over the one creaking patch in the floor and diving into your own room. Lisa’s voice still fills your room each time she moans your name. It’s like music to your ears as the heat starts to build in your core in response to her lewd noises. You can’t help but question the odd situation. How many times has Lisa gotten up to wicked things like this while you were gone? Your teeth bite on your tongue to stop yourself from responding to her tempting moans and tuck your head deep under your pillows. It’s hard to breathe but the satisfied sigh that leaves your lips as Lisa’s voice hitches higher as it does right before she loses herself. You kick yourself mentally for arranging your bed so you’re head-to-head with Lisa through the paper thin walls. It takes seven minutes for her breathing to calm into the even sound of sleep and six more for you to say “fuck it” and get off to the sound of Lisa’s moans replaying in your head.

They’re still looping like a soundtrack to your darkest fantasies when you’re showering in the morning. Lisa is at the sink brushing her teeth and giving you a rundown of the day’s itinerary. You never actually get to agree or disagree with Lisa’s plans. It’s a very one-sided type of planning that doesn’t require your input. She’ll drag you wherever she wants to go by your hair. Now she wants to go to the mall. Something about running low on outfits to wear for her performances. You squint at the wall as the water washes your less-than-innocent thoughts from your mind. Lisa has more than enough clothing, probably enough to last her months without repeating an outfit, but she also has money and an insatiable love of fashion. And so, you beat back whatever protests your mind supplied and go to the mall.

It’s loud and crowded as you’d expect, and Lisa refuses to drop your hand. Her grip is tight enough to convince you that if she let go it would be like the ending of Titanic. Of course, you’d probably just text her to meet you in the food court and go from there, but still. Lisa doesn’t give you a chance to get pulled away from her, though. She finds the store she was raving about on the way over and eagerly pulls you in. For a moment you think she’s taken you to a sex shop. All the mannequins are frozen in the most provocative way a plastic woman can with barely any clothes on to be called a display. Lisa doesn’t seem put off by the dim lighting and suggestive song lyrics floating through the racks of clothes. Instead, she takes off deeper into the store like she’s a kid locked in Disneyland. You decide to find a safe spot to wait for her. Preferably somewhere far away from the employee that’s looking at you like she can see through your clothes and is thoroughly enjoying the view.

The place ends up being near the entrance to the fitting rooms. There are rows of plush couches stacked with disgruntled men playing on their phones. You can’t tell if they’re upset because they hate shopping or they weren’t allowed to go in the fitting room.

“I got some stuff for you, too,” Lisa says once she arrives to try on her finds. The amount of metal compared to actual fabric in her arms is imbalanced enough for you to worry that this store sells clothes made exclusively out of chainmail. Not wanting to disappoint Lisa by saying you’re fine with wearing your metal as jewelry, you follow her into the fitting room. A hand on your arm stops you from moving to a separate room once Lisa hands off the things she wants you to try on.

“Come in with me,” She pouts, “I might need help zipping stuff.” The look in her eye is too playful for you to not think she has an ulterior motive, yet you dumbly let the door close behind you. The room is oddly spacious with a small ottoman in the corner and a wall dedicated entirely to a mirror that’s bigger than you. Lisa doesn’t waste time on looking around. Instead, she immediately starts stripping off her clothes. Nervously, you tug off your clothes as well. You can’t tell why you’re so worried. You’ve seen Lisa in her underwear before. But it’s different now, now you can only see her skin flushed with pleasure as she screams your name.

“[Name], are you okay?” Lisa asks with her head sticking halfway out of a shirt that ties at the sides. You swallow hard and nod.

“Yeah, I’m good.” You mumble, grabbing a shirt to distract yourself from the taunting transparency of her lace bra. The shirt fits fine and you like the color. It’s something that suits you well, though you’ve never worn anything like it before. You jump when a pair of hands glide across your exposed waist to tug at the front of the shirt. The laces that crisscross over the bust give way to a wide flash of cleavage.

“Much better,” Lisa purs. You can’t tell if she’s purposefully trying to provoke you by pushing her hands under the shirt to grab your boobs, but it doesn’t really matter. You yank her wrists away and turn around to back her against the mirror. She gasps and arches into your chest as the cold glass presses into her skin.

“What are you doing?” You demand.

“I’m sorry.” She’s not. You can tell by the way she bats her eyelashes innocently.

“You’d better stop it if you want to walk out of this room without your legs shaking.” You threaten. Lisa doesn’t seem the least bit worried by your words. She goes out of her way to make herself look more alluring than she already did by pouting her pretty lips and looking up at you like you’ve told her she has five seconds to get on her knees and beg. Of course, now that you think about it, that does sound rather appealing. This isn’t the most ideal place for your desires to bubble to the surface, but it’s too late to go back and it’s all her fault. You tug the shirt off of her and pull one of the ribbons from its loops. The strip of fabric does its job of tying Lisa’s wrists together well enough.

“Sit,” She seats herself on the edge of the plush seat instantly. You don’t reward her with a positive reaction. Instead, you just continue on with your plan, grabbing her wrists and looping the ribbon on one of the many hooks above her head. Lisa squirms and you wait for her to tell you to stop, but she remains quiet. Both of you are well-versed in each other’s limits and safewords from a year’s worth of Lisa stumbling into your room late at night or sneaking up on you in the shower. With so much sexual tension lingering between the two of you, it’s no wonder Lisa was touching herself to the thought of you. That’s what dropped your mind off in the gutter in the first place. Now it’s time to repay the favor.

“Do you enjoy teasing me?” You ask. Lisa bites down on her lip, trying to hide a coy smile.

“No, why would you think that?” She sighs. Her thighs are pressed tightly against each other, rubbing as she tries to gain some relief from the pleasure you’re currently denying her. You grab her knees and spread her legs wide apart, stepping between them to keep them in place.

“Maybe because you’re soaking through your panties right now.” She moans breathlessly as you press your fingers against her covered center. This time you reward her with a kiss. Lisa whines when you pull away, her lips chasing after yours.

“Shh, do you want to get caught?” The devilish grin that appears on her face tells you everything you need to know. Yes, she would enjoy getting caught. “Of course, you do.” You roll your eyes at her before crouching to the ground. If she wants to get caught, so be it. It won’t stop you from finishing what she started. There’s another whine from above you as you pause to just stare at her. Lisa’s thighs are practically vibrating as you hold them apart and her arousal has turned the lace of her panties completely see-through. Hastily, you shove her skirt up her legs until it’s bunched around her waist and tug her forward on the chair. You decide to tease her for the hell she put you through last night.

Your tongue traces feather light designs over her dripping center, never pressing hard enough to give her any real pleasure. Lisa kicks her legs over your shoulders in an attempt to pull you closer. You laugh at her eagerness.

“If you want something you have to ask for it.” You taunt. She pouts at you. “Okay, don’t. I can wait.” Even as you say this your patience is running low. But making her beg will make everything better.

“Please,” There are desperate tears sparkling in her eyes now as she tugs at her restraints. “I need it. Please, do something.” You laugh at her lame attempt.

“Do what, exactly? What do you want, Lisa?”

“Give me your lips, your fingers, something! Anything!” Her voice is rising in pitch and you’re sure someone has noticed what’s going on in your dressing room. You give in to the cute little whimpering noise she’s making and press your thumb against her clit. She sighs happily at the feeling.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Her hips stutter against your soft touch, seeking something more. She groans in annoyance when you move your hand back each time she ruts forward. “If you want something, Lisa, all you have to do is ask.”

“I want your mouth. There, are you happy?” She whines. You giggle against her thigh. It should be near impossible for anyone to look so adorable just seconds before getting wrecked, but somehow Lisa has done it. You don’t bother trying to get her panties off, opting to simply push them to the side before burying your head between her legs. Her reaction is instantaneous and explosive. Without the barrier between your mouth and her core Lisa is more responsive to your every move. She moans loud as your lips wrap around her clit. You don’t bother to shush her anymore. If she didn’t want anyone to hear, she’d be quiet. Instead, she lets out a stream of curses as you glide two fingers into her entrance. Her walls grip so tight around your fingers that you can barely move them.

“I’m so close.” She whispers as if it wasn’t obvious enough. You curl your fingers up to brush against the one spot that has her body stiffening as she reaches her high. You don’t let up on swirling your tongue around her overly sensitive pearl until Lisa is jolting at each pass and a timid knock sounds outside the door. You lean back on your heels and swipe at your lips with the back of your hand. Lisa’s eyes don’t leave yours as you answer whoever’s knocking.

“Uh, are you done? My manager is getting suspicious and I’m running out of excuses.” Comes the timid voice of some sales clerk. You affirm that you’ll be out soon and stand to untie Lisa. She flexes her hands.

“You know we’re buying all of this stuff now, right?”

“Why?” You roll your eyes at her.

“To give that sales clerk some good commission for not letting her manager kick us out. Now fix yourself so we can go.” You gesture to her bunched up skirt and panties. She stands on shaky legs and tries to make herself look presentable in the mirror while you gather up all the clothes scattered on the floor. All eyes are on the two of you as you casually exit the fitting room. Half the men who had previously looked utterly bored are either gone or watching you leave like they’ve never seen anything more beautiful walk past. In their defense, Lisa is wearing a skirt.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on Tumblr for more. https://thx-cum-again.tumblr.com.


End file.
